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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Cliap. CopTi'iirliT ^'o. 

siieit:3-i7 N -5 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



AN INDIAN ROMANCE OF PRE- 
HISTORIC NEBRASKA; OF THE FA- 
BLED ANCIENT EMPIRE OF 



BY 
E. E. BLACKMAN. 



QUIVERA PRESS, 
ROCA, • • - NEBRASKA. 

1900. 



\^^^ 



Liforairy of Ccngressj V'' ' -. 

Two Copies Received 
SEP 4 1900 

Copyright entry 

SECOND COPY. 

Dtli voted to 

OBOtR DIVISION, 

S EP 11 i^uj 

' S9650 

Copyrighted, 1900, 

By 

E. E. BLACKMAN, 



NIOBRARA'S LOVE STORY. 

CANTO I. 

List with me the old traditions 
Of the lovely Niobrara-- 
From the land where white deer wander- 
Where they stalk amid pine trees 
When the snow weighs down the branches. 
View with me the scenes they witnessed 
In the ardor of their courtship; 
Realize their ardent loving 
If ye can ye pale-faced mortals. 

Bold and strong and true the lover, 
Keya Paha, the white deer hunter, 
Keya Paha, the bravest chieftain 
In the land of frigid winters. 
In the land of pine trees, northward 
From that verdant land Quivera. 



6 

Dusky were his native people, 
Making war and hunting bison; 
War-like, fighting many battles, 
Taking scalps and making dances 
To the totem poles in autumn; 
Dressing skins of deer and bison, 
Making tepees out of birch bark; 
Trimming up their heads with feathers 
From the swift wing of the eagle. 

Once, the chase extended southward 
To Qui vera' s fertile prairies, 
And a noble herd of bison 
Was surrounded in the valley. 
Full a thousand of his people 
Joined the hunt that time eventful; 
Like a black cloud rose the dust storm 
From the frightened herd in milling; 
Loud the thunder of their bellow 
As the arrows pierced their vitals; 
Rolling in the dust, the monsters 
Gored each other in their fury; 
And the hunters, drawing nearer 
In their eager thirst for glory. 
Used their clubs with awful havoc. 



Keya Paha, among the foremost, 
Mounted to the very shoulders 
Of a maddened, bleeding bison, 
And with fury phed his hatchet. 
But the bleeeing beast stampeded, 
Miihng to the very center 
Of the furious herd of bison; 
There, amid the raging monsters. 
Death seemed certain to hunter. 
Loud the cry of wild lamenting 
Rose from all the thousand people, 
As the living mass of fury 
Made a dash for life and freedo-m. 

Onward over miles of prairie. 
Dashed the furious herd of bison. 
Keya Paha, the mighty hunter. 
Was as powerless as a baby 
On his bleeding beast stampeding. 
Those behind were crowding forward, 
Those before were dashing onward; 
Miles go by like as a whirlwind 
And the dust and heat is dreadful. 

As the reddened sun descended 
Slowly slacks the bisons fury. 



8 

Hope of succor cheers the hunter, 
And his strength is slowly waning; 
By the panting of the bison, 
He can see his strength is waning. 
Those before are spreading, slowly, 
Those behind, with speed abating. 
Make the ride to death less certain, 
As they, turning in a circle. 
Slowly slack their speed in milling. 
While his steed, in fright, continues 
To the outer circle nearing; 
And, in safety, he with caution 
Springs again to solid footing; 
But, in springing he is luckless--. 
As he strikes his senses leave him. 
And he knows no more of danger. 

Where a garden cool and blooming 
In its dewey fragrance resting 
Charms the senses with its splendor, 
Keya Paha beheld the sunrise 
On a glorious autumn morning. 
Flowers rich in fragrant color 
Decked the winding path and terrace. 
And a bubbling spring, in coolness^ 



9 

Laved the pebbles as it rippled 
Past the flowers toward the river. 

On a couch of skins and grasses 

Near the open doorway rested 

Keya Paha, the mighty hunter, 

Keya Paha, the youth of valor- 
Chief of tribes that warred and hunted, 

Of a tribe that knew no city, 

Of a tribe of dark skinned people 

From the chilly land to northward. 

Long he tried to guess the secret 
Of the pleasing scene before him; 
Long he tried to know his coming, 
How he came, and where he came from, 
How the houses and the gardens 
Came to be his place of dwelling, 
How he came to see the sunrise 
In a city of such splendor. 
Then he thought him of his riding, 
And the furious herd of l:)ison; 
And he wondered at the strangeness; 
Tried to rise, and found he could not; 
Tried to move his limbs and could not. 
From the pain that held him captive. 



lO 

Far across the verdant prairie, 
Long his gaze was held, reviewing 
In his mind the scenes enacted. 
Until back into the garden 
Came his thoughts and gase, in wonder 
At the beauty of the picture. 
Down the winding path, a vista 
Bright in color led his vision 
Till it rested on a figure 
Perfect in its grand completness, 
Perfect in its form and feature, 
Moving, slowly, 'mongst the flowers. 
Long he gazed in admiration; 
Long he wondered at her beauty. 
At her costume, like the flowers 
Bright in color and completeness. 
Not the skin of roe-buck, whitened. 
Could be dyed such gaudy colors 
By the arts known to his people. 
Thus he lay astounded, raptured. 
All absorbed in scenes before him; 
Living only on her beauty. 
Never hearing sounds approaching, 
Never seeing other visions 



II 

Save the one absorbing picture 

Of the maiden midst the flowers; 
She, the fairest flower of any, 
She, the one great view enchanting. 
Here, a voice of some one speaking 
Brought him back to earth from heaven, 
And his host. King of Quivera, 
Stood besice his cot, and saw him 
Better from his easy resting. 
Better from his night of sleeping; 
Knew him by his dress of deer skin, 
Knew him by his dusky color. 
Called him Keya Paha, the hunter, 
Asked him how he came to famish 
In his hunting on the prairie; 
Heard him tell his awful journey, 
How he rode the maddened bison. 
And admired him for his valor, 
Told by him not as a boaster, 
Told as Tartarrax would tell it, 
As a story, strange and simple. 



12 



NIOBRARA'S LOVE STORY. 

CANTO II. 
Happy days of convalescence 
Followed that great ride of terror, 
Happy days of golden iroments 
In that garden rich in fragrance. 
Days when Cupid with his arrows 
Pierced the heart of Niobrara, 
Pierced her heart with shafts of pleasure. 
Pierced her heart with poisoned arrows, 
Sang a love-song sweet and soothing 
To the heart of Niobrara. 
Keya Paha in Heaven wandered, 
And the eyes of Niobrara 



13 

Pierced his heart like Cupid's arrows, 

Told him volumes in a moment, 
Told him m re than lips can utter 
In a thousand years of speaking. 
Not a glance he did not witness, 
Not a tone he did not fathom, 
Not a playful jest but harbored 
Meanings that he comprehended. 

All too soon the time for parting 
Came when Keya Paha, the hunter, 
Must return to lead his warriors 
In a fierce and bloody battle 
With his enemies, the Black Feet, 
Calm the sun shone in declining, 
Long the shadows grew from oak trees, 
Cool the stillness of the garden 
Near the shrine of holy goddess, 
Built beneath the boughs enchanted, 
Hung with silver bells, whose music 
Charmed the priests who counted wampum 
In their praying to the Sun God. 
In the sacred walks enchanted 
Strolled the charming Niobrara 
And her valient hunter-lover, 



14 

As the parting hour was Hearing. 

Sad the tones her lover uttered 

As they paused beneath the branches 

Where the golden bells were silent 

In the stillness of the even, 

And poured fourth his arcent wooing: 

"O, my queen my Niobrara, 

Can I leave you for my people? 

Can I live this life without you? 

Can I part with you my darling? 

Better that the sun be hidden, 

Better that this noble river 

Dry its waters in the summer. 

No, my treasure, I must win you; 

You must be my life and sunlight; 

You must nerve my arm for battle, 

You must true my aim for hunting, 

You must be my own, my darling. 

Come and love me, Niobrara; 

As the west wind loves the pine tree, 

Calling music from its branches. 

So your love for me, my sweetheart, 

Shall bring warmth within my wigwam; 

Come and be my wife, my d rling." 



15 

Light'y moved the pendant branches 

Hung with golcen bells for music; 
And the softly moving zephyr 
Swayed them in the silent twilight. 
Like a wedding bell, they tinkled, 
Seemed to voice the god's approval, 
As her eyes, in mute appealing, 
Met his own with love-light shining. 
Told him that his words were welcome, 
Told him that his kiss was sacred, 
Told him that she loved him dearly. 

Long the clays, when his departing 
Filled her soul with priceless pleasure; 
Long and sad and lonely grew they 
In her watching for his coming. 
All her heart, far o'er the prairie 
Was with Keya Paha, the hunter, 
Was with Keya Paha, her lover. 
As she wanderd in the garden 
Where before she found such pleasure 
All her thoughts wei-e v^'ith her lover, 
"O my life, my light, my lover. 
How my heart is grieving for you! 
As the ivy round the oak tree 



i6 

Twines its tendrils, climbing upward, 

So my heart twines round my hunter; 

As the bow of ash is bended 

By the cord to send the arrow, 

So T long to bend my hunter 

For a truer aim in living; 

As the lily of the valley 

Hides beneath the leaves its petals, 

So I love to dream of pleasures 

In his strong arm's light caressing. 

O, ye gods of war and battle. 

Lead him safely ho.ne from battle, 

Cheer the heart of Niobrara 

As the west wind cheers the flowers," 

Dimmer grew the eye and paler 
Grew the cheek of Niobrara; 
Restless grew her days, and sunlight 
Once so sweet to her old father, 
Seemed to vanish from the garden. 
Then he pleaded with his daughter 
As a heart-sore father pleadeth 
With a child he loves so dearly. 
"O, my daughter, Niobrara, 
Cease your mourning for the hunter; 



17 

He is far l)eneath your notice, 

Think of all your noble fathers, 

How they peopled Tla Palen. 

How they lived in old Atlantis, 

How they once were grand and mighty. 

Noble is the blood that courses 

In the veins of my fair daughter. 

Keya Paha, 'tis true, is mighty 

In a race of war- like people, 

But his race is wild and dusky. 

And their tepees cold and cheerless. 

Let some priest who counts the wampum, 

Or some chieftain of a city 

Win the heart of Niobrara. 

Live among exalted people, 

Dwell 'mid peaceful arts and pleasures 

Oh! forget your war-like lover. 

Stay and cheer your father's winters; 

Do not leave our loved Quivera 

Desolate, without your sunshine." 

Ernest was the father's pleading, 
Tearfully the daughter listened; 
Sad and broken were her accents 
As she spoke the words with feeling: 



18 

"Can the fish five out of water? 
Can" the bee subsist on dew drops? 
O my father, think with pity 
Of your wretched Niobrai-a. 

As a day of joy is relished 
After sorrow's desolation, 
So will come all things, all blessings. 
When the prayer with faith is constant. 
Time to weep and time for laughing, 
Intermingled smiles and tear-stains 
Try the soul for life immortal. 
All the sorrow felt at parting 
Only makes the meeting sweeter, 
Only gives a chance for making 
Closer ties to bind the dear on e. 
So, when Keya Paha, returning, 
Found his welcome warm as sunshine. 
He could bless the day of parting 
That three moons ago was over, 
And his pleading for the treasure 
Grew in eloquence and fervor. 

"I would ask you for a blessing 
Dearer than my very life blood. 
Let me take her to my people 



19 

In the lovely, breezy northland; 
Where the white deer feeds in winter, 
Where the pine tree sheds its fragrance, 
Where the pine tree sings in winter, 
Like a ghost with arms outstanding, 
Like a sheeted ghost in winter 
When the white deer seeks its shelter; 
When the song birds wake their music 
In the spring-time gay and budding. 
I will build a lodge of pine trees 
Like this lodge of noble walnut. 
I will treasure her as godess, 
Here, is worshiped with your wampum. 
Oh, I love your Niobrara! 
As the wild bee sipping sweetness 
From the summer flower, I love her. 
I will mourn and die in anguish; 
Like the dove, if I shall lose her. 
Will my tones be while I'm living. 
I will kill the fattest bison 
For her food in winter weather; 
I will pluck the gayest flowers. 
Thus, to deck her brow in summer; 
She shall be my life, my treasure, 



20 

And her heart shall know no sorrow. 
Noble is our tribe; in battle 
Never yet have we been beaten. 
And our men who make the arrows 
Form them straight and true for shooting. 
We can take the fish and beaver 
With a skill you never witnessed. 
Let me bear her to my wigwam, 
There to be my life and svinshine, 
There to be my children's mother, 
There to be my wife, my dear one." 

Tatarrax was sad and thoughtful 
When the hunter ceased his speaking; 
Sad, at losing Niobrara, 
Thoughtful, at the words she uttered,— 
"Can a bee subsist on dew-drops?" 
Thoughtful of the bright eyes dimming. 
How the cheek of rose tint faded, 
How she mourned her hunter-lover. 
"Can a father love his daughter? 
Can he dim his eyes with weeping? 
Can he trust her to the mercies 
Of a stranger, think you, lightly? 
Can the hearts of ardent lovers 



21 

Realize a father's angiiish 
When he loses all the sunshine, 
All the light from out his wigwam? 
Ask me for this dimming eyesight, 
Ask me for mv sense of hearing, 
Ask to make my right arm nerveless, 
Only leave me Niobrara. 
Leave me that which you have taken; 
All her heart and all her beauty. 
All her childish grace and antics. 
Give me back my Niobrara 
As you found her, noble warrior, 
And I'll give you half my kingcom; 
Give you all my skill in fishing. 
Give you all my vi^anning senses. 
Save that I may see and know her. 
See and know my lovely daughter 
As I did befoi-e you came here. 



22 



NIOBRARA'S LOVE STORY. 
Canto III. 
Can you do the task I ask you? 
Can you trafic hearts at pleasure? 
Can the wealth of forty kingdoms 
Give me back my Niobrara? 
Well you know you can not do it. 
Well I know her life and gladness 
You have called within your keeping. 
Shall I kill her with my loving? 
Shall I sacrifice my darling 
To my selfish love, and bind her 
With a load she can not carry? 
Take the life she freely offers; 
Be her husband and protector. 
But, in mercy to her father, 
Do not take her from my city; 
Come and live here in Quivera. 
Let her father's life be peaceful 
In his daughter's smiles and shunshine 
Till the happy hour of parting 
Comes, when I shall cross the river." 



23 

Trembling grew the voice in speaking. 
On his breast the grey haired monarch 
Bowed his head to hide his weeping. 
Slowly linked the far off music 
Of the holy bells in chiming, 
Like the gods, with their approval, 
Chiming blessings on the union. 
I^ong he sat in mute appealing 
As the words and tones he uttered 
Sank with solemn strains commingled 
To the very heart and being 
Of the hunter, dazed and speechless. 



View the home of warlike people! 
See the tepees made of deer skin! 
iSee the bow and arrow makers, 
And the women dress the deer skins! 
See the strings of wampum hanging 
From the neck of every chieftain! 
See the head dress made of feathers, 
See the painted face and body 
Of the young men bound for battle! 
■See the arrows tipped with feathers 
And the mighty bow of ash tree! 



24 

Hear the music and the sighing 
Of the zephyrs in the pine trees I 
See their chief in paint and feathers, 
Key a Paha, the mighty hunter! 

Never has he lost a battle. 

Never has an arrow struck him. 

Never has he yet been wounded. 

Grand the scene as all the people 

Join the war-dance in the gloaming; 

Wild the scene as camp-fires lighted 

Cast a weird light and shadow 

On the pines in dark green pictures. 

Wild and fierce, with painted bodies 

Dance and chant the youths of valor, 

Those who once had been to battle. 

Old and tried, the warriors seated 

In the circle of the firelight, 

Watching how the young men vanquish 

Enemies they meet in battle; 

As they snatch the fire brands, burning. 

From the camp fire in the center. 

Whirl them round anc round in dancing 

Chant their war-songs wild and weird 
Dash the brands to earth and stamp them 



25 

Like an enemy in battle. 

Half the night this niininiic war-fare 
Rages; until quite exhausted 
Down they sink and sleep o'ercomes them. 
As the east was blushing, rosy, 
Wild and fierce the war-cry sounded, 
And ten thousand painted warriors 
Sprang to arms and rushed to l^attle. 
All that day the war god ravished; 
Burned the wigwams, killed the women, 
Scalped the warriors killed in battle. 
But, when evening came, the conflict 
Ceased, and westward o'er the prairie 

Ail the enemies departed 

With the plunder of the tepees; 
With the bison meat for winter, 
With the robes of furry warmness, 

With the product of their hunting. 
Loud the wails of lamentation 

As they viewed their home destroyed; 

As they saw a thousand warriors 

Dead and scalped upon the praires; 

Saw the flower of all the nation 

Dead and dying in the ashes 



26 

Of their wigwams burned in battle; 

With a hundred wretched captives 

As a sacrifice to war-gods. 

Loud the cries of rage and wailing 

That this scene brought from the women; 

But the loss of these was nothing 

To the heart of sturdy waiTiors. 

In the thickest of the battle, 
All day long their noble leader, 
Keya Paha, the mighty warrior. 
Fought with energy and valor; 
Fought until the sun was nearing 
The horizon in declining; 
Fought without a sci'atch or blemish 
Till the foe had started westward, 
Till the fiercest fight was over. 
Then he caught a poisoned arrow 
In the breast that was protected 
By the war-god in his fighting, 
Caught an arrow made for killing, 
Caught his death and knew the purport; 
Knew that he must die at sunrise, 
Knew no power on earth could save him 



27 
His lamenting, heard the pinelrees, 
They alone knew his lamenting. 
"O, my bride, my Niobrara! 
Never more shall I behold thee, 
Never more this head be pillowed 
On thy breast as evening deepens, 
Never shall I press those red lips 
With the kiss of love enchanting, 
Never shall I watch you strolling 
In the garden of your father. 
All your sunshine now will vanish, 
Mourning for your lifelsss lover. 
Oh! that I had never known you. 
That you might be spared the anguish 
That this poisoned shaft will bring you. 
O, my darling, sad this last hour, 
Sad without your fond caressing; 
Like a women's grief my sighing » 

For the anguish it will cause you. 
O, ye gods of peace and plenty! 
Cover up the war-god's triumph. 
Cover up this poisoned arrow, 
And protect her from this anguish; 
Teach her to forget her lover. 



28 

O, forgive the grief I cause you 
Darling sweetheart, Niobrara." 

Loud and long the lamentation 
Of the old men in the morning 
When their chief, the mighty warrior, 
Keya Paha, the noble hunter, 
Cold in death among the wounded,^ 
Met the gaze of all the warrioi^s. 
Three long days of lamentation, 
Three long days of grief and fasting. 
Three long days of preparation, 
E'er the funeral couiteage started 
For the tomb of his last resting. 
High above the vercant valley. 
Near the muddy, croked river, 
Peketaneoui, the mighty. 
Is the tomb of this great chieftain. 
On the highest point, ascending 
To the heavens in its beauty, 
Is the place where he is resting. 
Standing upright, armed for conflict, 
With his wampum strings and feathers 
And his bow-string drawn for shooting. 
With, an arrow set for shootings 



29 

In his majesty they placed him, 

As they cut themselves with flint stones, 
Blacked their faces, too, with charcoal. 
Loud the dirge of lamentation 
As they heap the earth around him; 
High above his head they heap it 
On the high hill's highest summit; 
Smooth the top and make it level. 
Then the hundred wretched captives, 
One by one, are torn and tortured, 
And their blood the soft earth moistens. 

Many moons the watch fire's glimmer 
Told the love his people bore him. 
But the grief of oldest warriors , 
Was as joy beside the heartache 
Of his queen, his Niobrara. 
Long she waited for his coming, 
Long she strained her eyes at even', 
Knowing not his fate in battle- 
Knowing he was true and constant. 
Hoping, fearing and desponding, 
Slowly passed eight moons of grieving. 
"As the north wind sways the oak tree, 
So his love sways me , my father. 



30 

As the blighting frost of autumn 
Strips the verdure from the valley, 
So his absence strips my nature 
Of its sweetness and its beauty. 
Can I help it? O, my father! 
Like the warmth of pleasant springtime 
Did his love call forth my beauty, 
Did his love enrich my being. 
Gladly will I give a lifetime 
For the svvestness of those moments. 
One blest day with him, my father, 
Pays for all my life of anguish. 
But to know such love is heaven 
And its grand and holy beauty, 
Though I lose it no.v, will s.v^eten 
All my days with warmth and sunshine. 
Had the flowers never blossomed 
Frosts would never dim their beauty; 
Blest are they if they can cheer us 
In one summer's brief duration. 
Even if the frosts of autumn 
Rob us of their beauty, causing 
Grief more saddening in autumn 
Shall we never plant the flowers 



31 

Least the frosts of winter kill them? 

Do they not, in all their beauty, 

Call us nearer yet to heaven? 

And, in leaving us so lonely, 

Are our hearts not beckoned thither? 

So his love to me, my father. 

Calls my soul to join him wonder, 

Where I know he waits my coming; 

And, in the great, long hereafter. 

We shall live through one long summer 

In the warmth of love untroubled. 



-o- 



32 



NIOBRARA'S LOVE STORY. 
CANTO IV. 
I am ready, let me follow 
To that blessed home up yonder. 
Oh! the blessedness of loving! 
Oh! the rest and peace of heaven! 
There to know and love him ever. 
Long I've waited, O, my father, 
For the day of his returning; 
Long I've watched the shadows va:iish 
From the northern hills at night-fall; 
He is fallen, I am certain, 
In the hunt, or in the battle; 
Let rae go that I may find him, 
Wounded, sick, or broken-hearted, 
Let me go that I may cheer him 
In his sorrow and his anguish. 
I^et me smooth his dying pillow 
That my heart may bide its sorrow. 



33 



Just at sunrise, on the journey 
Moved the train in splenbid order; 
Northward to the land of pine trees 
Where the music sighs in summer, 
Where the white deer feed in winter 
Where her lover's home is darkened. 
Once, they camp beside a river 
Strewn with verdant beauty, flowing 
Swift and wide to meet the ocean, 
There to mingle on forever, 
Through the countless ages, numbered 
Only by the sands that sprinkle 
All its leagues of crooked border. 
Grand and smooth its tranquil bosom 
Glinting back the sunset's color. 
Red and gold in autumn weather. 
Beautiful in its completeness. 
Beautiful in all its settings. 
Graceful in its even curvings 
Through the verdant, fertile valley. 
Long they gaze in admiration, 
Niobrara and her father. 
From their lodge, as evening deepens. 
Silently they view the landscape. 



34 

"Grand and calm this lovely river, 

Beautiful, serene and charming, 

Like my daughter, Niobrara. 

I will name it, and forever 

Men shall call it Niobrara; 

Men shall love its curves and shadows. 

Men shall praise it for its beauty. 

For its lovely life reflected 

In the joy it gives to mortals." 

"Yes, my father, and its waters 

Soon will find their home the ocean; 

Soon will mingle with the current 

That through countless ages wanders 

In the universal ocean, 

Coming back in gentle showers. 

Pure and grand to deck the flowers. 

Precious thought! 'Tis joy to see 

How that heaven beckons me," 

Northward, still, the royal party 
With the sad-eyed queen departed. 
Saw the wild deer in the valley, 
Saw coyotes and deer and bison. 
Saw the cedar trees and pine trees 
Dark and green on the horizon; 



35 

Stopped within a lovely valley 
Where the antelope were feeding; 
Saw the noble crooked river 
From the hill- tops near the valley, 
Saw the landscape in its beauty, 
Viewed with awe the scene enchanting, 
Sweet and cool the zephyrs, floating 
Through the cedar trees at even'. 
Could not cool the heat of fever 

In the lovely Niobrara. 

Restlessly she moaned in sleeping; 

Like the troubled ocean billows 
Tossed and turned in broken slumber. 

As the moonlight tinged the landscape 

Silv-r with its harvest beauty, 

She arose aud wandered in it, 

Where its pale light toned her beauty 

To a perfect marble statue. 

And her lovely hair, loose streaming. 

Made a picture for the muses. 

To the highest point of hill-top 
Winding round, she slow ascended 

Up and up, until the summit 

Seemed to baffle all her efforts; 



36 

Weak and faint, within the shadows, 

Sank to earth with her lamenting; 

"Oh! that you, my hunter-lover, 

Could but cool my brow of fever! 

Come to me and let rae nestle 

In your strong arm's light caresses. 

Let me know that thou art near me, 

Let thy tomb become my pillow. 

Let my soul go out to meet you. 

O, my love-lost hunter-lover! 

Let me join you in your journey 

Through the silent spirit ocean. 

Let your sweet- heart, Niobrara, 

Like the stream that flows its waters 

To the universal ocean. 

Come and join your soul in heaven. 

By the twilight's dim reflection 
She was found with burning fever 
In the early autumn morning. 
Long she moaned and suffered; always 
Calling Keya Paha, her lover. 
Wasting daily with the fever, 
Until death at last released her. 
As the spot where she, lamenting, 



37 

In the moonlight's silvery shadow, 
Saw the last of love's sweet torture, 
There a mound of earth has risen; 
And she rests beside her lover 
Through her long and silent resting. 
Thus her prayer at last was granted, 
And his tomb became her pillow. 

THE END 



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